Hothouse

you say i’ll give you anything baby, 
just please don’t leave me, please don’t go 
but you’re lying- we both are– about how the dragon leaves the story 
unsought for, about how long he can go on pulling out teeth. i’m not so good 
at playing the dragon, but just this once, i’ll try. 
go on. i’ll be right behind. 
1. 
i want to tell a story with nobody in it. 

a man walks into a room and yells nobody move! 
let’s say you have a gun. let’s say you don’t want to die. glass windows and doors 
breaking all at once, and a light flooding in from the exit wounds. 
a man walks into a room and says i’m beginning to think this is the only way out. 
you still have a gun, and all the world is brilliant and bright. a body is made holy by 
how it seeks the light, but i wish it wasn’t me, not when it was supposed to be you. 
let’s say you don’t want to die. let’s say i’m you. 
you’re holding up a store yelling nobody move but all i can think about is 
what comes next– the casualties, the dinners, the kindness you reserve for 
when something’s finally gone wrong. 
smile for the camera, baby. you’re on tv. 
2. 
from here, the knight approaches. she says you know how all this ends.

you do. you don’t think you’ve ever wanted for anything more. lovebites,
 a body on the floor, a life without the narrative, or at least without the 
eyes. 
the knight says don’t be selfish! everybody wants to be a star. 
3. 
i want to tell a story, but there’s no story to tell. 

a man lives alone but he locks the door to his room every night. 
a man lives with other men but he can’t stop dreaming about monsters. 
zombies! bloodsuckers! dragons at every front! cover the windows honey, nail down 
the doors. you can never know where they’ll come from next, but you’re hoping 
they’ll knock when they bite. eyes peering in from every screen, there’s a hold up 
today happening right in your bedroom. 
remember to keep that smile! 

you tell the story this time. i don’t have anything else to say. 
ma i want to save you but i’m not sure that i’ll survive. 
ma can we switch? you be the dragon and i’ll be the 
hero and you can kill me this time. i’ll hold real still, 
i promise. 

the dragon pulls out his teeth and finds he still has his nails.

the dragon cuts down his nails, and finds he still has his tongue. 
wildfire, unmarked grave, i’m sick of spitting out bullets, 
and i’m waiting to be put down. 
a man lives a life without a story to tell. 
the aperture of a camera is as wide as an eye. 
let’s pretend the man is a girl. let’s say he wants to be anything at all. 
he’s playing a different role this time, let’s call it the dragon. in this 
story, the dragon is shaped like girl who can’t be a boy, or a boy who 
can’t stomach his grief. he’s counting his losses before they hatch, in 
order to make them stick. are you ready? here they come. 
no bullets, no sidecars, no cowboys, no Westerns. he’s hoping for 
catastrophe without knowing what that means: 
                  dear god lend me an angel or at least some kind of ending– 
                  the kind shooting up on a motel floor, throwing haloes 
                  through open doors. 
he’s hoping for red lights, fast cars, handsome men 
and some moonshine. barring that he’ll settle for his own life 
in his hands, and a gun. 
put your hands up baby. nobody move. 
4. 
ma i would like to stop being the dragon for 
a moment and just be your son. 
can i have the gun for a second?

i promise.i don’t want to die.